


The Perfect Pack Mom

by halcyon1993



Series: The Kinky Adventures of a Wolf and His Boy [66]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Anal Sex, Armpit Kink, Barebacking, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Clothed Sex, Come Marking, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Riding, Rimming, Scent Kink, Top Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 22:54:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20299273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyon1993/pseuds/halcyon1993
Summary: Derek gets turned on by how good Stiles is at being Pack Mom and just has to take him.





	The Perfect Pack Mom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [origuru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/origuru/gifts).

> As always with this series, don't judge me for the depravity I have written…

Every time the pack manages to all get together at the Hale House, it's pandemonium. If anyone were to see it, they'd never guess that the majority of the Betas are in college now because they sure as hell don't act like it. Derek always ends up with a headache near the end—and for an Alpha werewolf who never gets ill unless wolfsbane or mistletoe is involved, that's quite a feat.

Today is no different.

It's the day after Thanksgiving, and the pack is together again after spending the holiday itself with their respective families. As he has every year, Derek tagged along to Stiles' Thanksgiving with the Sheriff. Melissa McCall, Scott, Allison and Chris Argent completed the lineup. It was a very enjoyable dinner; Stiles and Melissa cooked the food, and then they all played a couple board games to finish the night off. Now, standing in the corner of his living room, Derek wishes he could go back just so he would be away from the chaos in front of him.

Currently, Allison and Scott are making out on one of the sofas, their hands venturing to body parts that are inappropriate when other people are around.

Erica, Isaac and Jackson are shouting at each other, each claiming that they're entitled to the last of Stiles' homemade chocolate chip cookies.

Cora and the twins are egging the fighting trio on with evil expressions on their faces.

Danny and Lydia are the only ones Derek thinks are sane. They're on the opposite side of the room to him, both looking as disdainful of what's going on as he is. He catches Lydia's eye for a second, and yup, she hates this lack of decorum just as much as he does.

Derek's inner Alpha is growing restless and more annoyed by the second, as shrill screams continue to pierce his ears. He wishes Stiles was here to either soothe him or wrangle the pack back in line, but his mate is currently out getting some groceries for the dinner he's cooking the two of them tonight. Stiles should be back soon, but Derek doesn't think he can wait that long. In fact, he doesn't think he can handle another minute of this craziness, so he has two options:

He can release a stentorian roar to bring his Betas back in line and let them know just how pissed he is.

Or he can get the hell out of there.

They both sound so tempting, but he always feels guilty after taking the first route because he recalls how much it sucked to be put in his place by his Mom when he was younger. He shouldn't feel that way because his stupid Betas would deserve it right now, but he would.

So that leaves option two.

_Sorry, Lydia,_ he thinks, beginning to make his escape. He gets as far as the foyer before he hears the familiar rumble of Stiles' Jeep in the distance. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Stiles'll sort this shit out. He always does.

Another minute passes with Derek waiting impatiently in the foyer, and then the front door opens and Stiles steps through dressed in a tight pair of black chinos and a loose green tank top, his lean but toned arms and broad shoulders on display. He carries two paper bags which Derek immediately takes—to be chivalrous, yes, but also to free his mate up to take care of their fractious pack.

"Thanks, Sourwolf," Stiles grins, kissing Derek's bristly cheek. His grin vanishes when he hears the commotion in the living room. "Really? Again?"

Derek grunts.

"They never learn, do they?" Stiles releases a long, put-out sigh.

"Doesn't seem like it."

"Alright. If you take the groceries through, I'll handle our band of dumb misfits."

Derek eagerly takes the out, retreating into the kitchen. As he empties the paper bags onto the countertop, he listens to what's going on in the living room.

"Hey!" Stiles yells, catching everyone's attention. The pack would've gone quiet had Derek roared at them, but there's something about the normally sunny Stiles being mad that has the Betas going so silent you could hear a pin drop. Derek smirks to himself as he finishes his task, and once he has, he feels safe enough to return to the living room now that all the noise has died down.

"What's going on in here?" Stiles puts his hands on his hips. Derek thinks he looks sexy as hell when he gets worked up like this—as long as he's not annoyed with _him_, of course.

"Uhh…" Erica fumbles for an explanation. "We were just—"

"Acting like inconsiderate lunatics?" Stiles fills in for her, arching an eyebrow.

Erica shakes her head ardently, blonde curls flying. "N-no! It's just…there's only one cookie left and we were trying to decide who got it."

Stiles doesn't look any less unimpressed. "Well, if that's how you three still settle disputes with each other, I have to wonder if any of you deserve that cookie at all."

Erica, Isaac and Jackson all start to protest at the same time, but they shut up quickly when Stiles holds up a hand.

"I know _exactly_ who that cookie is going to," he decides, marching forward. He takes the last cookie from the plate on the coffee table, walks across the room with everyone's eyes on him and proffers it to Derek, who takes it gladly. "I'd say your Alpha deserves it for having to put up with all your behaviour this afternoon. Knowing you guys, you didn't let him get a look in in the first place." He catches sight of Jackson opening his mouth again and cuts him off before he can try anything. "And I don't wanna hear any more arguing," he commands.

Stiles is still human, so the Betas don't actually _have_ to listen to anything he says, but they all have enough respect for him as the Alpha's mate that they do anyway.

Even Jackson.

Derek is so fucking lucky that he gets to call Stiles his.

"And you two," Stiles says next, gesturing to where Scott and Allison are still tangled together on the sofa. "You know you have your own room upstairs, right?"

Scott pouts and aims his signature puppy-dog eyes at his best friend. "Yeah…"

"Then take your heavy petting up there, please. I didn't use my spark to create soundproofing on it just for you to make out down here."

"Sorry, Stiles."

"Yeah, sorry," Allison adds. "We'll stop."

"Good." Stiles turns back to Derek. "Any other issues I need to take care of?"

Derek shakes his head before taking a bite of his cookie, resisting the urge to moan when the flavour of it bursts across his taste buds. He's never really been a big fan of sweet things, but for some reason, he always loves whatever Stiles bakes.

"Cool. Now," Stiles claps his hands once, "if all of you can behave like good little boys and girls, I'm gonna go get started on dinner for me and Derek."

Derek follows Stiles into the kitchen, feeling sometimes like he's not actually the Alpha after all. It's not a bad thing, though—if he were to concede authority to anyone, it would be Stiles, and time and again Stiles has proven himself worthy of that authority, sometimes more than Derek himself. Derek takes a seat on one of the padded stools around the island and is pleased when bickering doesn't spring back up in the living room now that the Betas have been left to their own devices again.

For the next hour, Derek watches contently as Stiles bustles about the kitchen with ease, soon filling the entire ground floor with the smell of perfectly blended spices, pasta, tomatoes and ground beef. To add to the perfection that is his mate, Danny enters the kitchen at one point with a graze on his knee from playing a quick game of lacrosse outside, for old time's sake. Before Derek even has the thought, Stiles gets their first aid kit out, cleans and disinfects the shallow wound and sends Danny on his way again. Jackson shadows Danny with a constipated expression on his face, which leads Derek to suspect that the injury was his fault.

"Thanks, Mom," Danny says, limping slightly.

Stiles rolls his eyes good-naturedly, no longer protesting the title of Pack Mom which some of the pack gave him years ago. "No problem."

While all of this happens, Derek finds himself becoming more and more affected. It comes as no surprise to him that Stiles is good at taking care of their pack, but it still gets to him every time he sees evidence of it.

As soon as they're alone in the kitchen again, Derek stands from his stool and approaches Stiles. The human is facing the stove, so he doesn't see it coming when Derek slides his arms beneath Stiles' and wraps them around Stiles' torso, hugging their bodies together from head to toe. His mate startles briefly and cranes his head to glare back at Derek, but the narrowing of his eyes is facetious, not carrying any actual disapproval.

If Stiles didn't like it, he'd have no issue letting Derek know.

"Uh, hello?" Stiles says once his expression relaxes. He resumes stirring the sauce on the stove, preventing it from burning.

"Hey," Derek says back, nuzzling the side of Stiles' neck.

He inhales deeply, a quiet moan slipping out as the delectable scent of _Stiles_ fills his nostrils—cinnamon and rain, but with a small undertone of masculine musk to it too. Derek's cock begins to fill with blood in the confines of his black boxer-briefs, and he can't resist grinding forward against the generous curve of Stiles' ass, making his intentions known.

Stiles nearly drops his wooden spoon as he stiffens and makes a choked noise. "What's gotten into you, Sourwolf?" he asks, sounding breathless already.

"Nothing," Derek responds, breathing in again. He insinuates his right hand beneath the hem of Stiles' tank top and rubs up and down over Stiles' flat but soft stomach, enjoying the way the fine, brown hairs of Stiles' happy trail tickle his palm. "S'just you being you. That's more than enough."

"You know the puppies are still in the other room, right?" Stiles reminds him. "We can't exactly start anything right now."

Derek chuckles and nibbles on Stiles' earlobe. "Who says?"

Stiles shudders against him, and this time he _does_ drop his spoon. He curls his hands around the edge of the countertop on either side of the stove, his knuckles turning white. "C'mon, I _just_ told off Scott and Allison for getting frisky when they're not alone. You're gonna turn me into a hypocrite."

"Don't care," Derek says, nosing at the sensitive spot behind Stiles' ear.

It's Stiles' turn to moan, and his isn't nearly as quiet. "Derek…"

"I think they've intruded long enough, don't you?" Derek coaxes, his voice low and promising all manner of sexy things.

"M-maybe," Stiles stammers.

Derek hums, pleased. "Then it's time for them to go back to their own homes."

"Okay," Stiles assents, pushing his ass back against Derek's cock, which is now fully erect and needy.

Derek whispers his next words right in Stiles' ear, his breath puffing out warm across the shell. "D'you wanna do the honours?"

"Don't bother," comes another voice from the kitchen doorway.

Derek and Stiles turn their heads to find Jackson standing there with his arms crossed over his chest and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "The werewolves heard everything you just said and there's no way we're sticking around for the show. Hearing Stilinski moan your name even once was way too much for me. Gross!"

With an exaggerated gagging sound, Jackson leaves the kitchen and, a few seconds later, Derek hears Erica make a comment about Mom and Dad getting it on. Isaac simulates obnoxious porn music—"Bow-chicka-wow-wow!"—and then the front door opens and goodbyes are exchanged. When the last car engine fades into the distance and Derek can only pick up his and Stiles' heartbeats, he deduces that they're well and truly alone and can keep doing what they were doing.

"That was easy," Stiles comments, switching off the stove.

"Yup. Now…where were we?"

Derek takes Stiles' chin in a gentle grip and brings their lips together. The kiss starts out tender, but as soon as Stiles parts his lips on a sigh, all bets are off. Derek slips his tongue into Stiles' mouth and groans as the taste of his mate bursts across his taste buds, something he's sure he'll never get tired of. He deepens the kiss even further, still keeping Stiles' back pressed against his front with his arm. He very quickly loses himself in Stiles, his world narrowed down to nothing but the two of them. He doesn't hear birds chirping in the trees outside, nor does he smell the meat and tomatoes in the saucepan in front of them. All he knows is Stiles—his scent, his taste, the warmth of his lithe body—and that's just how he likes it.

Derek doesn't stop kissing him until Stiles pulls away gasping for air.

"Fuck, you need to get inside me, like, yesterday," he says, leaning his head to the side when Derek latches onto his neck, sucking hickeys onto the pale flesh.

"Soon," Derek promises.

Stiles moans and arches his back, pushing back onto Derek's cock again to tempt him. "Sourwolf…"

"So desperate for it, aren't you?" Derek asks rhetorically, scraping his human teeth down Stiles' neck.

"Y-yeah…always want you."

"I always want you too, my mate," Derek whispers, kissing one of the rapidly forming bruises he created.

"Then fuck me already!"

Derek chuckles. "And to think: just a couple minutes ago, you were reluctant."

"Yeah, well, things change."

Derek hums his agreement and reaches around Stiles to undo his black chinos. It's a little tricky getting the button through the placket without his eyes, but he does, and then he works the zipper as well and slides to his knees, pulling Stiles' chinos and boxers down with him. He leaves them bunched up just above Stiles' knees and grins to himself as he pushes up the back of Stiles' tank top, granting himself an unobstructed view of his mate's pale ass. After planting a chaste kiss to each smooth cheek, Derek spreads them apart, licks his lips as he stares for a few seconds at Stiles' twitching pucker, and then he dives right in with abandon.

"Derek!" Stiles cries, his upper half tipping forward slightly. He slaps his hand against the row of cupboards on the wall above.

Derek just keeps going, licking over Stiles' tight hole in hopes of coaxing it to relax and let him in. He already knows it'll work; this is far from his first rodeo. They've spent years getting to know each other's bodies, creating spaces for themselves inside of each other time and time again—far too many times to count. Derek growls quietly and wiggles the tip of his tongue against Stiles' hole, his own clenching because he knows just how good it feels from when Stiles has done it to him in the past.

"Fuck yeah, Sourwolf…don't stop," Stiles implores, slowly rocking back onto Derek's face. He'll have one hell of a beard burn on his ass later.

Luckily for his mate, Derek has no plans to stop, not until Stiles is loose enough for him to slide his dick inside with minimal pain.

For almost fifteen minutes, nothing changes. Derek's kneecaps begin to hurt because the floor beneath him is tiled, but he doesn't care. He pushes through the discomfort because he's getting closer to his goal, Stiles little hole gradually stretching around his tongue until he can actually taste Stiles' insides, feel the heat of his inner walls. When that happens, Derek seals his lips around Stiles' rim and sucks on it, satisfaction burning in his chest when the action elicits a loud wail from his mate. He loves the sounds that always pour from Stiles' mouth whenever he pleasures him like this, so he does it again and again to hear more of them.

Stiles' thighs quiver and the brown hairs dusting them stand on end, more proof of how good it feels to have Derek's mouth on him.

Derek's a talented motherfucker, and that's not just his own ego speaking.

After another short while of this, Derek is unable to ignore his own need any longer. With a final lick over Stiles' hole, he slithers to his feet and presses his front to Stiles' back again.

"You gonna fuck me now?" Stiles enquires, right before meeting him in another passionate kiss.

"Hell yeah…" Derek assents against Stiles' lips, fumbling with the fastening of his jeans. "Gonna stuff you full of my cock until you can feel it in your throat."

Stiles' eyelids flutter. "Your mouth's always so dirty during sex."

Derek gets his jeans open and shoves the front of his underwear down to free his aching cock. The waistband ends up tucked beneath his weighty balls. He spits on his palm and gives himself a few strokes to slick himself up. "Are you complaining?"

"Hell no, Sourwolf." Stiles looks back at him with a lopsided grin. "You know I love it."

"Good."

Derek kisses the side of Stiles' mouth as he positions himself, aiming the head of his uncut cock at Stiles' rim. "Ready?"

Stiles nods vigorously, his dishevelled hair flopping down onto his forehead. "Uh-huh."

The first push in isn't easy—saliva isn't really an adequate substitute for lube, and Derek didn't finger Stiles open first—but Stiles' body is used to taking him by now and Derek is persistent. It takes about a minute for him to bottom out, all eight thick inches surrounded by the most perfect heat he's ever known.

"Damn, I never get tired of how you feel around me," he rasps, resting his forehead against the back of Stiles' neck.

Stiles' chuckle comes out a bit choked. "Me neither."

The two of them just stand there as Stiles acclimates to being filled up again, as both of them relish the feeling of being _complete_ again. When his mate finally gives him the all-clear, Derek slowly pulls back his hips until just the head of his cock remains inside, and then he thrusts back into Stiles' welcoming hole syrupy slow. He puts his arms back around Stiles' torso and holds him close as he fucks him, both of their breaths coming out short and panting. He's glad that Stiles is in the same boat as him, otherwise he'd probably be subjected to some sort of dog joke, as is Stiles' penchant.

"Faster!" Stiles entreats him, his hands still gripping the edge of the counter.

Derek obliges. He transfers his hands from around Stiles' abdomen to his bare shoulders, getting a firm grip before he picks up the pace of his thrusts. He leans back slightly and looks down between their bodies, his arousal kicking up a notch as he watches himself repeatedly sink into Stiles' hole. His balls smack against the underside of Stiles' ass cheeks with each thrust, and the sound of their skin slapping together in the otherwise quiet kitchen is obscene. It's compounded by the numerous moans, whimpers and mewls that Stiles releases every time he's filled up to the brim.

Soon enough, sweat beads on Derek's brow, his body beginning to overheat because he's exerting so much energy while fully clothed. He pauses briefly to reach back over his head, grasp the back of his maroon henley and yank it off. After tossing it carelessly to the side, he resumes fucking Stiles like they both want. He misses the sensation of skin against skin because Stiles' tank top is still on, but at least he's not so hot anymore, meaning he'll be able to go for longer.

Although not _that_ much longer, apparently.

Derek feels a telltale tingling in his lower gut and knows his orgasm is approaching. He tells Stiles as much and is surprised when the human asks him to stop. Despite his confusion, he does so, his cock staying buried to the hilt inside of his mate.

"You okay?" he enquires, suddenly worried that he somehow read things wrong and went too far.

Stiles pushes him backward, forcing Derek's cock to slip out of his hole. He spins around, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Yup. I just wanna do _this_."

The next thing Derek knows, he's lying on his back on the kitchen floor and Stiles is tugging at his jeans. Without thinking about it, he lifts his hips to help and is then naked, his hairy ass resting against the cool tile beneath him.

"Gonna ride you," Stiles apprises, removing his chinos and underwear too. He leaves on his tank top.

Derek's concern fades and he instantly gets on board with this switch-up. He watches as Stiles straddles his hips and reaches behind himself to take Derek's cock in hand. He barely resists the impulse to buck up into his mate's grip. It takes all of his willpower to stay still so that Stiles has all the control. It's always so damn hot when his mate takes charge, causes Derek's toes to curl.

Just a few seconds later, he throws his head back as Stiles shoves himself down on his cock, taking him all the way again in no time at all. The human wiggles in place once he's sitting in Derek's lap, and then he moves his legs so that they're on either side of Derek's torso and leans his upper half back on his arms, fitting his hands around the Alpha's shins. Now in the perfect position to ride Derek hard, he begins.

He smirks after Derek hisses through his teeth, radiating smugness. "You like that?"

"Stiles!" Derek gasps, curling his hands around the human's ankles to hold on for the ride. "So good!"

"I know. I'm the best."

Stiles continues to ride Derek for a while, his face becoming florid as he sweats too. It's like Derek is just an instrument, a tool for Stiles to use for his own pleasure. His cock bobs wildly in the air each time he slams himself down onto Derek's lap, the cut head weeping so much pre-come that it drips down to soak into the tanned skin over Derek's abs. Derek has never seen such a sexy sight.

"Almost…there!" Stiles gasps out a couple minutes later, his thighs straining.

To help him along, Derek lets go of one of Stiles' ankles and puts his hand on Stiles' cock instead. He quickly finds a rhythm with him, stroking his cock in time with Stiles' movements until the younger man cries out and explodes, jet after jet of thick seed shooting from his slit to splatter over Derek's front. It gets everywhere, all over Derek's abs and chest. A couple spurts even fly up to Derek's face to get caught in his dark stubble or land across his mouth. Derek swipes his tongue out over his bottom lip to taste his mate's release, and the salty bitterness combined with the increased tightness of Stiles' hole around him is what sends him careening over the edge too.

He howls as he orgasms, his hands ending up on Stiles' thighs to pull him down onto his cock, ensuring that his seed gets as deep inside him as possible.

When the pleasure has crested and he comes back down, Derek lies on the kitchen floor with his eyes still shut and struggles to regain his breath. "Fucking hell…"

"Right there with you, big guy," Stiles groans, sitting forward so that he can give his arms a break.

Once he's recovered somewhat, Derek opens his eyes just in time to catch Stiles playing with the mess they made. Stiles trails his index finger through the come on Derek's chest, creating strange patterns and matting down his chest hair. Derek growls quietly when he swirls his slick finger around one of his nipples.

He allows his mate his fun and then sits up, still cradling him in his lap. Lips meet lips as they share a calmer kiss, both basking in the afterglow.

"Love you, Sourwolf," Stiles murmurs, smiling lazily.

Derek's heart skips a beat in his chest, as it always does when Stiles tells him that. "I love you too," he responds.

As his cock softens, Derek trails more kisses along Stiles' jaw and down his neck, following his nose. The kitchen reeks of their combined scent, overpowering the scent of the sauce still waiting to be finished on the stove. Derek can't get enough. It causes his cock to twitch with interest, but even for a werewolf with a short refractory period, it's too soon for him to get hard again. Instead, he stays relaxed and bites teasingly on Stiles' collarbone before pushing at Stiles' right arm. When Stiles raises it for him, he sticks his face unceremoniously in his armpit.

It's a werewolf thing, a heightened focus on scent like this, and Derek is grateful that Stiles has no problem indulging him. He even encourages him, winding his long fingers in the dark hair on the back of Derek's head and scratching short nails over Derek's scalp. Pleasant tingles shoot down his spine, and Derek makes contented sounds as he snuffles into the sweat-damp hairs in Stiles' pit, relishing the musk he finds there. It's quintessential Stiles, with just a hint of chemicals from his deodorant.

"Good?" Stiles asks softly, his hand behind his head to give Derek better access.

Derek just hums happily.

When he's had his fill, he leans back feeling a bit dizzy and wonders if this is what it's like for a human to be high.

"Silly Sourwolf," Stiles says fondly, kissing his forehead.

With some reluctance, Stiles gets off of Derek's lap, both of them wincing when Derek's soft cock slips out of his hole, and stretches when he's back on his feet. Derek copies him and locates his clothes, folding them over one of his arms as he finds each garment. When he's got them all, he turns around just in time to witness a now completely naked Stiles cleaning his ass with his tank top.

"What? Your come's leaking out of me and I don't want it to get on the floor," Stiles excuses, sticking his tongue out.

Derek sticks his own tongue out in retaliation, enjoying how he's comfortable enough to act so carefree and immature when he's alone with his mate. It's the only time he allows himself.

"I'm gonna take a shower," he says, rubbing his free hand over his chest before he can think better of it. His palm comes away smeared with Stiles' come.

"I'll join you," Stiles says, his voice deeply amused. "Then I'll finish up dinner. I think we both worked up an appetite."

Side by side, Derek walks with Stiles out into the foyer and then up the stairs to the first floor, licking the mess from his hand like it's an appetiser.

He's one lucky Pack Dad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to origuru for giving me this prompt. I hope it was everything you wanted it to be. :)
> 
> I have a question: how many people would be interested in a small fic focused on Derek/Peter? In it, there would've always been tension between them, but Derek believes it's wrong and runs from his feelings. He ends up running right into Kate's arms, the fire happens, and in the aftermath, he's racked with guilt. When Peter eventually comes out of his coma, he reassures Derek that he doesn't blame him and they finally get together with some sweet sex in which Peter calls Derek his good boy. I guess it'd be between 5,000-10,000 words. I know it would be a deviation from my usual stuff, but I got the idea a few days ago and haven't been able to forget it. It would be a one-off, and then I'd be right back to writing Sterek. Yay or nay? Let me know.
> 
> Stay tuned for my next PWP. If enough people are okay with it, it'll be the aforementioned Derek/Peter fic. (EDIT: Apparently I should have made this clearer, but the Deter one-shot wouldn't be a part of this series.)
> 
> **P.S. Don't forget to subscribe to me to be notified when my future fics go live, which will all be Sterek. And please check out my past fics if you haven't already and are interested.**


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